Objection!
by Old stuff of Mine
Summary: Goren/Eames AU. Set mid Season 5. Bobby's an ADA with a messed-up past and Alex is a smart-ass defense attorney who hasn't come to terms with her husband's death. Definitely B/A, some M/C.
1. There's Room to Grow

**A/N: Yay! I've finished my exams! And I should really be working on Crosswords right now. However, this just popped into my brain, practically fully formed. Well, there are still a few kinks which need to be smoothed out but eh, it'll all pan out. **

**If you read the summary, you will already know that this is an AU. It's mid Season 5. It is definitely B/A with quite a smattering of M/C.**

**In this story, Goren became an ADA, not a detective. He does, however, still have a crappy past, a schizophrenic mother, and a loser brother. **

**Eames is a defence attorney (fan**_**fiction**_**, guys) yet still a smart-ass. She was married to Joe Dutton and he did die.**

**Deakins is still Captain. **

**Ron Carver still exists, may even make an appearance, but he isn't quite so thoroughly attached to MCS as he is in the show.**

**Logan and Barek are, as in the show, fairly recent partners. They still work for MCS, Barek still talks to herself, etc.**

**Disclaimer: Originality is nothing but judicious imitation. The most original writers borrowed one from another. The instruction we find in books is like fire. We fetch it from our neighbours, kindle it at home, communicate it to others and it becomes the property of all. – Voltaire**

**Please review, especially if you feel I have not quite captured the voice of any particular character, though there will be some differences due to the fact that this AU. Criticism is at least as helpful as praise. **

**And yes, the title of this chapter was shamelessly stolen from the song Drops of Jupiter by Train. "She checks out Mozart while she does tae-bo/Reminds me that there's room to grow"**

**Chapter 1 – There's Room to Grow**

There were twelve relatively normal people out there, leading relatively normal lives, who would never forget the day they watched an ADA throw his foot up on the prosecution's desk and ask the defendant what size shoe he himself wore. Twelve more, even more normal people, who would always remember how that same ADA played with a priceless bronze relic (People's 19) to goad a witness into delivering her testimony. There were endless dozens of people who had convicted those he prosecuted, had accepted their roles as a jury, but who would forever remember the slightly crazy prosecutor, the oddball of the DA's department. Robert Goren was well aware of this.

He knew that he was disliked by most – if not all – of his colleagues. He knew that, were it not for his win/loss ratio, he would have been shunted to traffic court a very long time ago. As it was, he got a closet-sized office in the far recesses of the Manhattan District Attorney's Office and all the cases for which conviction was thought to be impossible. He didn't mind, he found the cases he got to be much more interesting than your average homicide.

At that moment in time, 4:30 on a Thursday afternoon, he was seated in the aforementioned office reading the most current file on the murder of Sean Carlisle. Carlisle had been one of the big-wigs of New York High Society. Having made a fortune before the dot-com bubble burst in 2000, he had since turned his attention towards other, more frivolous pursuits. These were extensive and various, but mainly consisted of having lunch with important people such as the mayor and getting married to women less than half his age.

A week and half ago, on February 15th, Carlisle was found dead in the decadent Upper East Side apartment he called home. He had been shot once, in the forehead. A rose stem had been stuffed down his throat post-mortem.

The case was being handled by Detectives Logan and Barek at Major Case. However, the complete dearth of physical evidence combined with the fact that practically anyone who had gotten within a foot of the deceased had a plausible motive – Carlisle was not the most pleasant of people – meant that he was the prosecutor of choice. Bobby didn't mind. Unlike many of their fellow officers, neither of the detectives in question had a problem with Bobby's somewhat idiosyncratic methods, and Carolyn Barek's profiling background meant that she could usually keep up with him when he went off on some esoteric tangent about a suspect's psychopathology.

He finished reading through the evidence, which didn't take long, and pulled his leather binder towards him to start making his own notes. The victim's younger brother Richard was currently at the top of the suspect list, but there were a few inconsistencies in the case which left shreds of doubt in Bobby's mind.

Bobby continued to work on the case, putting it in order in his mind, for the remainder of the afternoon. He was startled out of his thoughts by the ringing of his cell. He leaned forward, rubbing his neck to ease a few cramps – apparently he had been sitting with his head cocked for longer than he thought – while he answered the phone.

"Goren"

"Hey Goren, it's Logan. Barek and I were gonna go grab a slice. We were thinking maybe you could join, we could put our heads together about the Carlisle case?"

"What's the matter Logan?" Bobby laughed, "Need me to solve another case for you?"

"In your dreams Goren. I was actually hoping you could give me some rest from my partner, she's been on my ass all day." He lowered his voice to a stage-whisper, "I think it's 'that time of the month' again." Bobby grinned at the subsequent yelp Logan emitted; obviously the guy had not yet figured out that the correct time to say such things about a woman was _out_ of earshot.

"Bobby," now it was Carolyn's voice on the phone. "If you don't join us, Logan's going to stick his obscenely large foot in his mouth one too many times and I won't be able to stop myself from shooting him."

"Well, it sounds as though I am truly needed. Where are you headed?"

"Fratelli's, on Oliver Street."

"Sound good. Be there in twenty?" Carolyn agreed, and with that Bobby closed his phone and began to pack up. To be frank, he was looking forward to hanging out with the two detectives. Over the past few months since they had begun working Major Case, he had handled a number of their cases. He and Logan had experienced some initial difficulties, but a few games of one-on-one tackle football had lead to a casual but sincere friendship. Carolyn was always glad to spend time with him; she claimed it was because Logan was the only male non-relative she ever spent time with outside of the office and she was in dire need of a break.

It was nice to have some simple, straight-forward relationships in his life. It was much more constructive than the time-honoured tradition of "your place or mine", but definitely less stressful than his family. Neither Logan nor Barek was struggling with mental illness or addiction, though a case could be made for Logan for the former... Bobby shook his head, smiling. It sure as hell beat sitting at home with a case of beer and his Smithsonian magazine. And at least he'd have a legitimate excuse to give to the new temp in the front office, who had apparently already worked her way through every other eligible male in the building and was now focusing all of her attention on Bobby. He couldn't remember her name, but for once he didn't feel guilty about it; she seemed to have just as much trouble remembering the meaning of the word 'no'. Apparently not all the gossip surrounding him centered on what an idiotic whack-job he was.

* * *

"So then I turn to the witness – and the jury, they just can't keep their eyes off of me – and I turn to the witness and he's looking all confused and anxious and I know, I just _know_ that he's gonna give it all up. So I ask the same question, see, that I asked just five minutes earlier and suddenly – BAM – he gives a _different_ answer! Naturally, I win the case. I mean, what else would you expect from someone who made senior partner in Miller, Jackson & Hall by the age of 32?"

Alexandra Eames wondered – not for the first time that evening – whether or not it was possible to be literally suffocated by someone else's ego. Granted, Kevin Hall was an attractive and successful man, but she was beginning to feel as though they should have set another place.

"I mean, that promotion may have been almost a decade ago but I haven't lost my touch." He said to Alex, self-consciously touching his carefully died and styled hair and speaking in what she would have sworn was the _exact_ same tone her older sister used. "I mean, do I look 41? That was rhetorical by the way." He leaned towards her and said in an even more condescending tone than he'd used the rest of the evening "I have to clarify. Sometimes people find it hard to tell when I'm using sarcasm."

It was thanks to twelve years of carefully schooling her expressions to maintain a cool front for a jury that Alex managed to refrain from snorting into her pretentious pinot noir. Barely. As it was, she let out a sort of half cough and excused herself to the restroom.

Once safely ensconced in the glass-and-porcelain sanctuary she finally allowed herself to relax. Smirking at her reflection, she wondered, not for the first time, why the _hell_ she dated defence attorneys. Then the raised-by-a-cop-and-so-ridiculously-practical side of her caught up. She quickly remembered that being a defence attorney herself, there were four types of people she met in her everyday life. The first was criminals, because even if they weren't convicted by a jury of their peers, she knew most of her clients had probably done that which they had been accused of doing. This was closely followed by cops, and she wasn't about to make _that_ mistake again – she stopped herself in that train of thought immediately. Because, quite frankly, standing in the restroom of a restaurant, thinking about your dead husband while on a date, was just pathetic. The third type of people she saw on a regular basis was prosecutors. She had a few issues with dating prosecutors, including the fact that most of the ones she worked with were women – and Alex wasn't about to give up broad shoulders and facial hair anytime soon – they tended to have some complex about saving the world, and as much as she wasn't enjoying herself tonight, her date could at least afford to take her somewhere more upscale than _Yin Liu's Chinese Emporium_. This, of course, left other defence attorneys as her only choice. This was the option she stuck with, mainly because it was slightly safer than walking into a bar and going home with the first guy who bought her a drink and could string more than two words together to form a cohesive sentence.

It was at this point that Alex realized she was still standing in the washroom, and her date was probably giving a soliloquy to her cutlery. She tucked her hair behind her ears and put on another coat of lipstick – to show that she _hadn't_ just spent an inordinate amount of time in the washroom defending her choice of date to herself.

When she returned to the table, Kevin was surreptitiously checking his reflection in his knife. It was at that point that Alex vowed to never again go out with a guy who spent more time on her hair in the mornings than she did. Which, the absurdly cop-like side of her brain pointed out, further diminished her choice of potential dates to pretty much zero.


	2. I'm Not in It to Win It

**A/N: So here's how this went. I wasn't planning to post for a few days but then people reviewed, and I got motivated.**

**To Expand:**

**If LOVE=UPDATES,**

**And REVIEWS=LOVE,**

**Then REVIEWS=UPDATES. ****そうて"すね****?**

**The title is once again the property of Train, 'cause I've been on a major Train kick and I just can't get them out of my head. If you have never heard "If it's Love" go, take two and a half minutes, and enrich your life, and then come back and review.**

**Chapter 2 – I'm Not in It to Win It**

Sometimes Carolyn Barek wondered why she spent her Saturday afternoons freezing her ass off while she watched her partner and Bobby Goren attempt to kill each other in the name of football. She was, at that moment, purchasing some desperately needed coffee from a nearby vendor. However, she was having trouble carrying the three cups of coffee, due to the fact that both of her hands were currently ensconced in the woolly warmth of mittens – making gripping anything at all even more challenging.

She was in the middle of attempting to figure this out when another of the vendor's patrons approached her. This patron was a woman of about Carolyn's size, with blonde hair and a friendly demeanour.

"You realize that for that to work you're gonna have to either lose the mitts or grow an extra hand, right?" Carolyn pretended to consider this.

"Well, I already have two hands; a third shouldn't be too tall of an order." The both laughed and the stranger stepped forward.

"You going far?"

"Nah, my friends are in the field over there." She made a jerking motion with her head, indicating the direction.

"Well, I'd be glad to give you a hand. I'm Alex by the way." Carolyn gratefully allowed her to take one of the cups.

"Thanks Alex, I'm Carolyn." They began to walk towards the guys, engaging in small talk on the way.

"So Carolyn, what makes you crazy enough to be outside in this weather?"

"Not my choice, I suggested we go somewhere indoors and heated but the guys insisted." She continued, "My partner and his friend never pass up an opportunity to play around in the snow."

"Partner..." Alex left the question hanging. She thought she was getting a 'cop vibe' from the woman beside her but she didn't want to presume.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm a cop." Carolyn explained. "Mike and I are both detectives, and because I have no chance in hell of ever having a social life it's either this or go home and listen to my mother tell me about all the nice sons her friends have, and how having a kid would somehow make my life a better place."

"I know _exactly_ how you feel" Alex concurred. "Except for me, my sister and sisters-in-law join in the party." She snorted, "I'm almost ready to go buy myself an engagement ring to shut them up." Carolyn laughed; she had to admit it was a pretty good idea.

By that point, they had arrived at the edge of the field in which Bobby and Mike were playing. As they stood there, waiting for the guys to acknowledge their presence, Carolyn began to explain the premise of the game to Alex

"Pretty much the ball is just a handy excuse to beat the hell out of each other." Alex laughed,

"And I thought I was pathetic with my ABBA fan club card."

Carolyn smirked, she found she was really enjoying Alex's presence, and continued. "See, Bobby – that's the bigger guy, in the blue - needs to do away with all the pent-up energy he has from being in a cramped office all day, every day, and Logan's doing to Bobby what he wishes he could have done to any number of perps throughout the week." Alex nodded her understanding, not failing to notice that both the guys were quite attractive, in their respective ways. Especially the bigger guy – Bobby, was it?

At that point the guys realized that Carolyn was back with their coffee and so they paused in their attempts to beat each other into a bloody pulp. Both Mike and Bobby were a bit surprised to see that Carolyn was not alone. Standing beside her was a woman, about her height, with blonde hair and delicate features. She and Carolyn were smirking at the guys, and Bobby decided he liked the mischievous glimmer in her eye. He graciously accepted a cup of coffee from the stranger, smiling bashfully.

"Guys," Carolyn said. "This is Alex; we met at the coffee vendor when I realized that I had three cups of coffee and only two hands. Alex, this is Bobby Goren and Mike Logan." The group shook hands and then sat down on some nearby benches, enjoying the warmth the coffee provided.

"Wait a minute," Alex said, eyeing Mike carefully, "Mike Logan as in 'punched a city counsellor in the face' Mike Logan?" He grinned,

"The one and only."

"Good for you, Kevin Crossley was an asshole." She laughed, "My Dad and his buddies almost threw you a party after they heard about it."

"Yeah? How'd he hear about it?"

"He's a cop, well ex-cop. He said it took real guts." Mike looked surprised,

"You're a cop's kid?" She smiled and Bobby thought it was quite possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"NYPD" she replied. "Born and raised. Are you all detectives?" she asked.

"Barek, uh Carolyn and I are. Bobby here however" Mike slapped Goren on the shoulder "defends our city with a copy of the constitution instead of a gun."

"Actually Logan" Bobby began to say, "Very few of my cases deal with the tenets of constitutional law-"

"You're a prosecutor?"Alex interrupted; as attractive as he was, this was beginning to sound suspiciously like _Constitutional History I: From the Articles of Confederation to the Civil War_. Bobby looked a bit surprised, as though he wasn't used to being stopped from ruining nice days with ridiculously boring information

"Uh, yeah, I'm an A – ADA."

"It's too bad" Mike said. "Can you imagine me and Goren, tag-teaming the streets of New York..."

"Yet another reason to believe in a God" Carolyn murmured. They all laughed, Logan's vain attempts to impersonate a wounded puppy resulting in a sight habitually reserved for funhouse mirrors.

"What about you?" Bobby asked Alex. "What do you do?"

"Nothing quite so virtuous, I assure you." She deflected neatly. She was enjoying the company of her new acquaintances and could only imagine the response two cops and an ADA would have to the words "Defence Attorney".

"You didn't follow in your father's footsteps?" he pressed, and Alex got the feeling that he was genuinely interested.

"Nah," she replied. "There was a time that I seriously considered it, but then I realized it's not always about what's right." When Bobby cocked his head questioningly she continued, "I mean, it doesn't matter if you're doing the _right_ thing, your Captain says stop you have to stop. Not to mention the fact that cop uniforms never look quite as good in reality as they do on TV." She grinned, "So I decided to merely appreciate the police force from a distance." Bobby was about to reply when Mike cut in,

"Well, if you ever want to _appreciate_ the police from closer up, I'm sure I could accommodate you." Before Alex could respond, Bobby gave Mike a shove.

"Geez Logan, do you always have to ruin _everything_ by being a lech?" His tone was playful, but he was still slightly annoyed by Logan's disrespect. And, taunted a little voice at the back of his mind, the fact that he had the guts to say something to this absolutely adorable woman sitting beside you.

Logan grinned,

"You got something to say, Goren?" They exchanged a few more taunting barbs before digressing to an intense, but apparently good-humoured, wrestling match.

Alex watched them for a few moments before turning to Carolyn.

"Should I be disturbed that they've known me all of ten minutes and are already fighting for my honour?" Carolyn laughed.

"Oh no, I'm just glad that for once it's not me."


	3. Garde tes Trésors

**A/N: Thanks for the Reviews! They made me get my ass in gear and work on this sucker. I'm sorry this update took a bit longer. I had to legitly work through the entire case and ask myself "how the hell is this gonna work?" and, unfortunately, that takes time. **

**If you love it, hate it, want Alex to stop being a bitch, or have any other feelings regarding this you should tell me. By REVIEWING. C'mon guys, there's even a cute little speech bubble to show you which button to press.**

**And the title this week is from the song Aicha by Khaled. It is in French and regardless of that fact you should all go listen to it.**

**Chapter 3 - Garde tes Trésors**

"Yo Barek!" Mike called across the busy room. She strolled over to his desk trying to ignore the urge to brush back the small curl that always escaped from his carefully coiffed hair.

"Whaddya got for me, Logan?"

"You remember that cigar I made a big fuss about at the scene? The one in the ashtray?" She nodded. "Well CSU just got DNA results back and the DNA did _not_ match that of Sean Carlisle but was that of a close male relative." Carolyn attempted to ignore Mike's victorious tone but her valiant efforts were thwarted by his next words. "I told you. I said 'no way does a guy with a case full of _Totalmente a mano_ Cuban cigars smoke a Dominican Republic Montecristo for kicks.' And I was right."

"Great Logan; we gonna bring this guy in now?"

Mike leaped up and followed her out the door. This case was looking to be open-and-shut: they could finish the paperwork that night. And, if he played his cards right, maybe Carolyn would agree to a post-arrest, celebratory drink – as partners, he knew she would smack him if he suggested anything else.

Alex Eames was rather surprised when her secretary informed her that a Damocles Carstairs had come looking for her. She had heard of Carstairs – being a lawyer in New York it would be extremely hard not to. He was purportedly one of the best civil attorneys in the city – if not the country. She told her secretary to send him up right away, and as she waited she wondered why he would want to speak to _her_ of all people.

The man who walked into her office was in his early fifties. He was extremely well dressed in what Alex guessed was a privately tailored suit, and she was willing to bet that his tie was Hermès. His hair was a silvering dark grey and he had numerous wrinkles on his admittedly handsome face. His affect was genial and eager, something which surprised Alex quite a bit. She welcomed him and bade him to sit in one of the chairs facing the austere desk which served as the focal point for the room.

"How can I help you, Mr. Carstairs?" She asked.

"Oh, please," he replied in a clipped British accent. "Call me Damocles." Alex smirked.

"Did your parents hang a sword above your crib?" He laughed at the snide remark

"It is a bit pretentious, is it not?" He paused for a moment, and then continued. "However, I'm certain you are much more interested in why I am here. I have been, for the past 30 odd years, the primary attorney for the Carlisle family." She nodded.

"I am very sorry for your loss; you must have known Sean Carlisle quite well."

"Yes, thank you. Sean and I have known each other since Cambridge. In fact, Sean's unfortunate demise is rather why I am here. His brother Richard has just been arrested on suspicion of having committed his murder. I am not well versed in the intricacies of criminal law, and I thought the best move would be to hire Richard someone with more experience in that area. Hence," he finished with a slight incline of his head, "I have come to speak with you."

"I understand, but if I may be so bold, why me? There are many other defence attorneys in the city; ones who have more experience and work for more prestigious firms." He smiled; apparently he appreciated Alex's candour.

"While there are undoubtedly a few firms more prestigious than Thompson & Thomson" he replied, "there are not many. And the fact that you made senior associate after only six years speaks for itself. But that is not why I chose you. For starters, I have seen you in court and you are, if I may say so, quite formidable. It takes a lot for anyone, especially a woman, to do as well as you have in this business. However I must admit that the deciding factor was your history as a prosecutor. I like the idea of working with someone who knows the inner workings of both sides of a conflict."

Alex was slightly dumbstruck. She had expected him to avoid answering her question, not to give her the genuine response she had just received, and her history as an ADA while not a secret, was not something she shouted from the rooftops. She smiled at the man in front of her.

"In that case, Damocles, I would love to be Richard Carlisle's legal counsel. I assume I'm needed at the precinct post-haste?"

"Yes, that would be wonderful, thank you. I was told he is being held at the Major Case Squad, he should be anticipating your arrival." He hesitated, and then continued. "Do you have need of my presence? Because there are some matters in Sean's affairs with which I need to deal." Alex smiled,

"No problem, I and my vast experience have got it covered. Anyways, we wouldn't want to intimidate the poor prosecution." He laughed and, after making the necessary arrangements about billing and other such mundane things, left the office.

Alex followed suit not much later; she needed to get to the precinct before her new client did something stupid, like talking to the police without a lawyer present. As she drove to 1PP, she considered everything she knew about the case. Her knowledge was not extensive- it was pretty much limited to what she had seen glances of on the front pages or heard snippets of on the radio. However, she continued to think about the case to avoid thinking about another subject which was encroaching on more and more of her thoughts. She wasn't surprised to hear that such a high profile case was being handled by MCS, and she knew that in all likelihood it was being handled by Carolyn Barek and Mike Logan, the detectives she had met by total fluke in the park a week prior. She wasn't worried about working with them, mainly because she was quite confident about her ability to keep everything professional. What she found much more disconcerting was the idea that she might end up facing Bobby Goren in a courtroom. Kind, enthusiastic Bobby Goren, whose graceful hands and kind dark eyes had, much to her chagrin, been a recurring subject of her wandering thoughts the past few days.

She shook her head. She was being ridiculous. She had met him – _them_ – once and suddenly she wanted to be best friends with these people. Anyways, she had no way of knowing if Mike and Carolyn were handling the Carlisle case. And even if they were, it would most likely be Ron Carver, smooth-talking dandy of the DA's department prosecuting the case. He was, after all, well versed in the practice of soothing irate politicians.

She pulled her car into the parking lot of 1PP and squared her shoulders. She was here in an official capacity, and she was going to work to see that her client got the best representation possible, adorable ADAs and genial cops be damned!

She kept thinking along those lines as she was escorted up to the eleventh floor. By the time she was ushered into the interrogation room, she was well-prepared for the shocked looks of the two detectives. She nodded coolly to them and began to speak in her best bitchy-defence-attorney voice.

"Alex Eames, Mr. Carlisle's attorney."


End file.
